


Life Is Always A Test - Hershel

by TyJaxReaper



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: AU, Anal Sex, Blood and Gore, Gay Jokes, Hand Jobs, Language, Lucus likes guys, M/M, Rick's A little dark, Sex, Sexual Content, Teasing Daryl, The Prison, The normal warnings, Violence, but won't admit it, pissing each other off
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-08
Updated: 2016-04-08
Packaged: 2018-04-13 16:31:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4529073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TyJaxReaper/pseuds/TyJaxReaper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU<br/>On an average day in the Croatian Lucus Cooper, a survivor, gets caught by Daryl's group and is taken back to the prison where he meets Rick. He let's him stay for a couple of days, and in those days Lucus gradually gets closer to Daryl, hangs with him, sort of becomes friends. Daryl had an inkling that Lucus liked guys because of all the gay jokes, but confirms it after a scavenge where they found liquor and Lucus gets drunk. </p><p>Daryl convinces Rick to let him stay and gets Lucus to hang around longer. Eventually sex.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I started this ages ago and really liked it. I must've forgotten about it, but when I started back up I had to keep going. 
> 
> This is going to be a side story along side Irony's a bitch. :)

“ _Shit, shit, shit, shit!_ ” he cursed to himself, awkwardly trying to keep the door closed with his weight against it and trying to pull the heavy cabinet over to cover it. He’d been using it to hold it closed when he was safely inside. It was way harder when you had a small herd of Croats trying to get through to eat you.

He’d been out on a scavenging hunt around the small, at the time, empty town, picking up any kinds of food and stuff he may need. By the time he finished searching the seventh or eighth house a bunch of the dead was lurking outside like they’d been waiting on him to come out. Obviously he made a run for it, but pretty much everywhere he turned a Croat would hobble his way, arms stretched out, ready to nab him. He was lucky when he saw a big gap between a few of them and sprinted through, making his way to his temporary hiding place. But unfortunately there was a group around his house. He evaded a bunch and dodged and weaved his way up the steps and into the house, quickly darting in and slamming the door shut behind him. By the time he pushed himself back against the door, a bunch of the dead started scratching and pressing up against the wood, making it creak and feel like it was bending in on him.

He’d pulled the cabinet almost all the way into the doorway when he brought his weight from the wood to push the cupboard all the way. He jumped a little when the door opened a few inches, rotted, shredded and decayed hands snaking in to get at him. He pushed hard against the cabinet, shoving it up against the doorframe and pushed harder only to hear squelching and snapping sounds and then a few disgusting ‘thuds’ hitting the wooden floor. He knew what it all was and he really didn’t want to look at severed arms. He’d seen enough for one day, or for one lifetime.

There were still sounds of scratching and scraping against the door, the Croats still trying to get to him. He was lucky, very lucky. He’d been in this sort of situation many times before, but he’d always get away. He was wondering when his lucky would run out. He only had so much and he hadn’t been a lucky person to begin with.

He sighed and shook his head, forcing his body to relax. He was as safe as he could be at the moment. The backdoor was heavily boarded and shut tight with two huge cupboards pressed against it. All of the windows were fenced and boarded too, save for one window upstairs for a quick escape if needed. And the front door, lockable and covered by a seriously heavy dresser cupboard filled with anything heavy he could find in the house. The place was pretty fortified. And he did it all within two days, a record.

He’d been there for just less than a week. He saw all of the abandoned houses and streets and instantly thought that the place was one of the first areas that were evacuated. He was right when he set up shop and started looking around. More than half of them still had food, drink, and a few things he’d need. Hell, he found a garage filled with sanding and sawing equipment. Now he had a ‘Compact circular saw’ in his bag, talk about too lucky. He wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth though.

“Cuttin’ it close, Lucus,” he commented quietly to himself, watching the covered front door intently to see if it held. He knew that talking to yourself was one of the signs of ‘Your-going-crazy’, but he felt better when there was someone speaking, even if it was just his own voice. He hadn’t spoken to anyone in so long, since he was with a group. And that was weeks ago. Probably months. He hadn’t been counting.

Once he surmised that the front door was safe he turned away and quickly headed for the stairs, walking slowly from all the running he’d had to do in the last ten minutes. He was beat, all the scavenging, jogging and sprinting around had worn him out.

After he finally reached the top of the staircase he gradually turned the corner and made his way to what he tagged as the parents’ bedroom. A double bed in the middle of the room, pressed up against the wall under a decent sized window. The window that was the only escape root for him if he was in trouble. To the right were a few clothing draw cupboards, filled with guy clothes. He’d taken a few pairs off shirts and trousers and folded them as small as possible and shoved them to the bottom of his duffle-backpack.

To his left was what he was looking for. A walk-in closet that the woman of the house used. It was a pretty decent sized hiding place for himself and his bag. He slid the door open and walked in, closing the thin door behind him. He used the room as his little safe area. There were big boxes just on the inside that he would push against the sliding door before he went to sleep, using them as a sort of barricade.

He crouched down next to his bag and reached behind him, pulling his desert designed pistol from the back of his belt and dropped it next to his desert designed rifle. They belonged to his old man, he used to be a part of the Army many years ago. He wouldn’t go anywhere without one of them, hell he usually walked around with both of them. Today was just a little different. He thought he was safer because the town was empty when he first woke up. No Croats and no humans.

It was like a small herd just decided to pass through on a whim and he just walked out at the wrong time. If it was a full herd then he wouldn’t have made it out the front porch. They’d be on him in seconds.

Unfortunately, he had to drop the stuff he’d scavenged throughout the day. The dead would’ve caught him otherwise. He’d have to go out and get them once the small herd was gone. He was pretty lucky that only a handful had followed him to his house. He’d lost most of them on the run back.

Lucus signed and unclipped his duel machete from his thighs, strapping them together and then dropping them next to his bag and guns. He needed to rest and get some food and drink in him for his run tomorrow. It was a little too late for him to go out now, it was starting to get dark and he was sure the herd wouldn’t die down yet, not until early into the morning at least. It would be a bit too dangerous in the dark. He wouldn’t know if a Croat was on him until it either made a noise or jumped him.

He stood back up and sluggishly walked over to the closet door, reaching out and grabbing the decently sized boxes and shoving and putting them up against the wood, stacking most of them before stepping back to see his handwork.

It looked sturdy and stable so he deemed it fine. He walked back over to his bag and sat down, dropping ungracefully onto the blankets he took from the rooms. He shifted out of his black jacket and tossed it next to his stuff, hearing the ruffling sound as it landed, and he then dropped back onto his bed, his hands entangling behind his head.

Even though he could still clearly hear the scratching on the front door and the noises the Croats were making outside, he easily found sleep, slowly closing his heavy eyes until he couldn’t see anything. The noises just seemed to lull him until he dropped off.

\----------

_“Lucus!” his sister screamed his name, trying everything in her power to pull away from the hands on her. He did the same, trying to pull away from all of the decaying hands gripping him. He couldn’t, they had a firm, solid hold of him._

_He screamed her name in urgency, watching as the dead hands on her started ripping her flesh away, her skin tearing, her muscles showing, and blood spraying. Her screams turned to screeches, her throat sounding as if it was being shredded from the inside out._

_“Lucu-,” the end of his name was cut off, sounding gurgled and broken as a Croat leaned over her and ripped her throat away with its teeth._

_“Alexa!” he shrieked, thrashing and struggling from the deads grip. Just as he thought he could get free he felt his body stop. It just stopped. He didn’t move, couldn’t move._

_He screamed as he felt teeth rip into him, his muscles, his bones and skin, everything. He was being torn apar-._

\----------

“Aaagggghhhhh!” his eyes shot open and he started to struggle, his back slamming against the wall behind him. His heart was thundering, he could feel his blood pounding throughout his body, he was panting, breaths going in and out like a jackrabbit.

He took a moment to check himself and the little room he stayed in. Nothing, no dead things, no sister...

He never actually saw his sister die. He wasn’t there. He slammed his head back against the wall aggressively, feeling the pain and the vibration from his head and the wall.

Nightmares. It wasn’t like he never had any, but the last one he had was ages ago. He rarely had them, even after all of the crap with the Croats. They didn’t scare him anymore, they were just annoying and always got in the way.

But that bad dream had him on edge now. If that was how she died, minus him, then he felt like crying. So much pain. He really wished that wasn’t how she died.

His parents were dead. He saw them. Not many people could say they saw their families again after it all started, but he was lucky. He got back from University right after the fever hit, just enough time to get home and check on his parents. But he was too late. They were gone.

His dad was dead, lying on the carpet in the living room, covered in blood and had bits of him ripped open with knife marks all over him, but with the killing knife blow in his head. He assumed that he was bitten first and came back just before it started to affect him. His mother must have killed and then tried to off herself. She was a Croat, a kitchen knife firmly stuck in her stomach. She couldn’t have known that you needed to aim for the head.

Lucus had to kill her. He grabbed the closest weapon he could find and slammed it into her head. He couldn’t hold back the tears and spent a whole week in his house, crying and practically screaming for them.

Once he was calm he looked through his family’s old things and his dad old war boxes in the garage. His old man used to be a soldier for the U.S Army. He found his father’s old weapons and ammo hidden away, and he grabbed them, almost everything. His old Military hunting knife, his machete set, a desert pistol and rifle set that was given to him by his Captain as a gift for all of the years he spent serving.

Before he left he put his parents in their room, laying them on the double bed and intertwining their hands. He gave his dad a ‘thank you’ for the weapons and then left. He locked the door and tossed the keys, not forgetting to unclip the picture of him, his parents and sister and clipping it to his trouser loop at his waist. He always wore it.

His sister, he didn’t know where she was. It had been so many weeks since it all started, he firmly doubted that she’d still be living with her man, all happy, white picket fence, with a dog. He knew she wasn’t cut out for all of this. She wasn’t a fighter, she wasn’t athletic. She was one of those girls that knew nothing about handling a weapon, any weapon. She could barely handle a scissors, but she was still his sister. She was kind, sweet, always wanted to help out. She was too good to kill anyone, let alone something that was already dead.

He felt calm, his pulse, breathing, blood pumping and heart was back to their normal speed. Damn nightmare. It really freaked him out. He was probably going to be on edge for the rest of the day.

- _Gunshots_ -

His instincts snapped into action. He shot up to his feet and instantly reached for his machete and pistol by his bag. He directed his gaze to the covered door of the walkin closet. It was still up and the guns shots didn’t sound that far away, maybe outside and just around the corner?

Great, humans. If Croats weren’t bad enough, one wrong move he’d have a gun at his head.

He stepped away from the bed, weapons tightly gripped in his hands. He moved a few of the boxes out of his way and gradually opened the door a few inches, checking his surroundings before slowly stepping out into the room. He quickly glanced down the hallway, nothing. No one had been upstairs, even less the house. The gunshots were still outside and didn’t seem to stop.

There goes his plan on getting the bag of food and drink back. The guys with the guns would most likely grab it on the way through. Or maybe they were like him and were scavenging. If they were, then they might try to get into his hideout where he had a shit load of stuff. He might need to warn them off.

But... what if there were a bunch of them? Whatever amount against one? He’d be screwed. He may as well just wait it out until they either leave or try to get into his house-fort.

He swallowed the dry lump in his throat and gradually, inch by inch, made his way towards the un-fortified window, the escape window. A dark curtain hung from the railing above it and he slowly pulled the corner away to look out through it.

The sun, it looked like it only just rose, what with the reds, oranges and pinks in the sky. It was pretty early, normally he wouldn't be up for another two hours or so. he usually liked the sun being higher over the mountains and houses.

The windowsill was slightly damp too, condensation? or was it raining before he woke up? maybe, it did look sort of wet outside. It must've been drizzle.

He peeked further passed the curtain and looked down one end of the street. Nothing, he couldn't see anyone, no people with guns, no people with bags, no one. He knew he didn't imagine the gunshots from before, he wasn't that delusional yet.

He slowly stood from his crouched position and cautiously reached out for the windows handle, gripping it hard before turning it and gradually pushing it open. He took a deep breath before he carefully leaned his head out to look down the other end of the street. His eyes twitched slightly at the sight of so many dead croats.

They'd been there, the humans. They'd been through that half of the street, that meant that they were still nearby if the other half he checked still had a few wandering around. They must've been going through the houses, killing the dead as they went. 

They were going to check his, scavenge it and then leave. He needed to go, now, before they found him, but he needed to be way more careful. They were in the same street and he was almost completely sure that they'd have someone on petrol, someone who's skilled with a weapon. There was no chance that they'd have someone useless on guard with so many of the dead walking around.

He needed to be carefully, stealthy, seriously ninja-like. He needed to get out of there before he was found out and killed.

Lucus pulled himself back from the window and closed it before he jogged towards the walkin closet and hid himself inside again. He shifted towards his weapons and bags, swiftly throwing his jacket on before going for his duffel-backpack. He zipped everything up and grabbed his other machete and rifle. He strapped the swords to a thigh each and strapped his duffel to his back, slinging the rifle over one shoulder. He kept the pistol in hand, just in case, and made his way out of the room slowly, but careful not to make too much noise.

Once he reached the bottom he made his way to the kitchen where he hid the spare food and drink. He had enough room in his bag for a few more cans and bottles of whatever he could grab within a few seconds. he couldn't take too long, he'd be found.

He quietly tossed his rifle and bag onto the kitchen counter and started running around the room, grabbing what he needed.

He stopped...

he could hear faint voices outside, pretty close to where he was. They were probably ' _hopefully_ ' checking the house next to him. He continued grabbing and tossing things into his bag, being quicker and swifter than before.

As soon as he had what he could get he zipped up the duffel-bag and threw it over his back, strapping it in place before grabbing his rifle and slinging it over his shoulder. He still had his pistol in hand, but hopefully he wouldn't have to use it, he didn't want to waste ammo and he definitely didn't want to hurt an innocent group who was just hungry and thirsty. That would kill his conscience and give him even more nightmares.

He ran towards the stairs and grabbed hold of the railing as he ran up them, quickly making his way towards the escape window. He had to have good timing. He needed to get out and around the roof to drop down behind the house. As he reached the window he replaced his pistol into the back of his belt of his baggy, black jeans and grabbed one of his machete from his thighs.

He grabbed the handle of the window and gradually pulled it open, peeking out to check if the street was clear. It was at that moment, so he took the chance.

He carefully lifted his leg out first and easily climbed out the rest of the way, leaning down on all fours for stability. He crawled around the roof of the house, stopping once he heard the voices again. He was seriously lucky that he was about halfway around the roof and out of sight before he heard them step up onto the porch of the house he'd been previously using as a fort.

He didn't move, he didn't DARE move. He knew that he'd make noise and said noise would draw attention and attention meant people seeing him and people seeing him meant danger for himself and possibly a gun to the brain. He SERIOUSLY didn't want that.

He eased his breathing, taking air in slow and quiet and releasing it just like he took it in. He needed to stay calm and collected and hopefully he could get out of there alive. He just had to wait...

' _Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit... shit,_ ' okay, trying to stay calm and breathing like that wasn't helping. He wasn't calm, he was shaking. He was starting to get a little scared. He didn't want to die, not yet. He wanted to live a little longer, a lot longer. There was no way he was dying just yet.

He closed his eyes for a quick few seconds and swallowed, breathing again.

He opened his eyes and looked ahead of him, seeing his jumpoff point just a few feet away. He wasn't that far from it and he was pretty sure that the people were too busy trying to bust his fortified door. He could hear the loud ramming sounds of shoulders and bodies hitting it from the roof.

Lucus bit his lip hard, not hard enough to piers, but it stung. He needed to rain in his nerves so he could do this. He needed to get out of there and soon, before they made it inside and up the stairs.

He slowly, _'slowly_ ' started to inch forward on hands and knees, trying to make as less sound as possible. He was thinking that he was doing pretty well considering no one had said or spotted him yet. ' _Please don't jinx it, please don't jinx it,_ '

He was nearly there, right there. He was so close. He jerked and tried to hold back any noise as he heard a really loud and deep slam from the front door. They must've gotten through and that meant he needed to get moving.

He started shifting forward again, a little quicker than before, but he was still quiet, so hopefully no one could hear him.

Once he found himself looking over the edge of the roof he glanced around that area, scanning to see if anyone was there. Thankfully the area was empty and that meant he'd have no trouble, unless someone came around the corner just as he jumped down. That would suck so many balls.

He sighed to himself and started shifting into a position where he could just easily drop down without making much noise. He slowly lowered himself over the edge, his hands holding tight onto the edges of the roof. He dangled for a few seconds before he let go, feeling the air hit him on the way down before he landed, pretty gracefully he added, in a crouched position just out side of the backdoor.

He wasn't surprised that he actually made a pretty loud thud when he hit the floor, his weight, add the duffel-bag full of cans, bottle, a hand saw, his rifle and his other weapons. He was packing pretty heavy.

As soon as he landed he turned to make a run for it, but he didn't get far. 

As soon as he turned he stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes completely focused on the arrowhead pointed right between his eyes and so close that he could feel the coldish feel of it on his skin.

His hands shot up in surrender and he swallowed the cold, dry lump in his throat. Guess his lucky finally ran out.

He stood there, his eyes still focused on the arrow, but he did glance up a few times at the wielder of the bow. He was rugged and a little dirty, though who wouldn't be at this point. He wore a sleeveless, dirty green vest and a pair of grey-ish green jeans with dr martin boots. He knew the shoes because he was wearing the same pair, but black.

"Move," was the simple order. He sighed and dropped his hands.

"Look man, I don't want any trou-," obviously that got him a bow-hilt to the face and he fell back against the house, his hand coming out to balance himself against the wall and his other hand coming up to hold his mouth. He was definitely bleeding. He could taste it and feel it dripping from his lips. No teeth broken or missing, but he bit his tongue pretty deep and his lips were most probably teared.

"Move!" He commanded, shoving the arrowhead further into his space like he was trying to emphasize the order. It definitely worked.

Lucus slowly pulled himself away from the wall and started to walk around the corner with one of his hands up, the other was still holding his mouth from spilling more blood. The lower half of his face was hurting, a cold, continuous sting was plastered all over the inside of his mouth and along his jawline. The guy seriously hit him hard.

He walked out into the open, into the middle of the road and reached to take his bag and rifle from his back. He dropped them next to his boots and dropped to the ground on his knees. He reached his hands behind his head after comfirming that the blood had slowed enough. He'd most likely need to work firstaid on himself if he got out of this alive.

"Seriously, I don't want any troub-," he started, but was cut off again.

"Shut up," was the archers simply order. Lucus huffed and lightly shook his head. He assumed this guy wasn't going to let him go until he got a group vote or something, yeah that was a thing. Everything was a gruop vote nowadays. "Don't give a damn 'bout what you want," he added after a few seconds.

He just huffed again and dropped back until he was sitting on his arse with crossed legs. He was leaning forward with both elbows resting on his knees, but one hand was holding his chin. He wasn't going to stay in that execution position, even if an arrow was aimed at him, like now. The guy was standing rigit with an arrow notched and pointed at him like the guy thought he was about to do something.

"Dude, I'm not gonna hurt anyone," he narrowed his brows in a frown. "I'm a scavenger type. I wouldn't hurt anyone unless they needed to be put down,"

"I told ya to shut your mouth," he raised his voice a little, like he was showing who the dominant one was. And what if he was the dominant one? Lucus wasn't just going to roll over and bare himself... wrong choice of words. Though, he probably would for this guy if he wasn't such a dick.

"Sorry, I was the kid that never listened," he scowled and stood up, facing the hunter guy who was still aiming his bow at him. "I haven't done anything wrong. I was just hanging around here because it was a good place to rest up. This town isn't a redzone," he pointed out, still glaring at the man.

"Get back on your knees," he ordered.

"Eat a dick," was his retort. He regretted it as soon as he said it because he was on his ass in seconds, holding his face with blood leaking from his head. It was a really stupid idea to back-talk the guy, at least he knew that now.

“Ah, damn,” he groaned, hesitating to touch the wound the damn guy gave him. His eyes were squeezed shut and his teeth were clenched. He could still feel a cold sting and pain spreading. He had a really good swing on him, even if it was with a weapon.

“What’s goin’ on out here?!” a older womans voice called and he didn’t even look at them, just deciding to concentrate on his face. “Daryl?” she called, must’ve been the guy that hit him.

“Found ‘im sneakin’ outta that house, says he’s a scavenger,” he said the last part like he didn’t believe him. “But with all those weapons...”

“Dude...” he tried, getting their attention. “What’d you think a scavenger does? When we see a weapon that still works, we use them... besides, I had all these when all this shit went down. My old man was a part of the army,” he said it in a matter of fact tone, his brows frowning and his expression more than a little irritated. “Lucky I haven’t used them on your ass yet,” he muttered and pushed himself up onto one elbow, his hand still timidly touching his wound.

“You’re askin’ for another,” the guy gestured to his injury.

“Think he’s got a group?” another guy asked, suddenly showing up out of the house with a few other people. Lucus just sighed and tried to sit up.

“If he has, they’d be nearby,” the older woman commented, her arms crossed with her rifle hanging over her shoulder, a pistol in hand.

“I don’t have one,” he confirmed. “It’s easier on your own. You don’t have to worry about people trying to kill you or hurt you... like your dick of a hunter friend,” he hissed and scowled at the man, seeing a sneer in return.

“That mouth o’yours is gonna get you killed,” he growled back, pointing the end of the arrow at him again.

“Bet you like guys talkin’ dirty to you, hell, I bet you like my mouth,” he shot back sarcastically, and smirked at the man’s glare. He knew that it was a bad idea to joke around, implying that a redneck was gay always pissed them off. And the look that he was giving him said he was nothing short of ready to stick an arrow between his eyes.

 


	2. Chapter 2

“Easier on your own?” he turned to look at the kid that spoke... a kid. He didn’t see many of them anymore. Hell, he was the first he’d seen since he came across a group back in Georgia. They had two kids, a girl and a boy. This one looked a lot older though, late teens maybe. And he definitely needed a haircut, so did Rambo here. He looked back at the hunter for a second and then glanced back.

“Yeah, there’s not a lot to worry about when you’re looking out for yourself,” he said almost solemnly and noticed the sad look on the kids face. “Don’t get me wrong. I... I just have a few trust issues with groups,”

“What about your family? Friends?” the kids asked, his eyebrows furrowed and he took a few steps towards him. Lucus glanced at most of the group that was now standing in front of him, like they were waiting for his answer.

“I-uh....” he trailed. He hated saying that they were dead, but... there wasn’t really another way to say it. His family was gone, his friends were gone. They were all gone. He took a long sigh and looked down, his hand falling from his head and resting on his knee.

“They’re dead,” the Asian guy said, his weapon hanging at his hip. Lucus glanced up for only a second to scoff a smile.

“Have you ever been in a group you trusted?” the kid asked him. He was full of questions. Lucus stared up at him, looking him over before looking around the little troop. They were close, like a family, or that was what he was picking up from them anyway.

“Kid,” he started, getting his attention again. “This group, how long you been with ‘em?” he answered with a question, seeing the boy stop to think. He didn’t know what impression he was making on this group, he really didn’t care. He was either dead at the end of this or he was going to be robbed and left for dead.

“I’ve been with most of them since it all started. Daryl, Glenn, Carol...” he pointed out as he named them.

“You trust them with your life?” he questioned seriously, watching his brow furrow deeper, same with the others. They were starting to look offended.

“Yeah, I do,” he sounded pretty confident and strong when he said it. This group was close, very close. It was something Lucus wished he had at the start, when shit went down. Though he was happy he didn’t. It made it stronger, faster. It made him learn and plan. He knew how to look out for himself now. He wouldn’t have known any better if he was coddled and kept out of the fights. What would happen if he was left out in a city or something, he’d be dead. Now... he could fight back.

“The longest I’ve stayed in a group was about a week and a half. I trusted them... up until they left me in a small town filled with these dead guys just because I caught my leg on a busted car door and I was bleeding. I turned out to be bait so they could get out,” he said with a nostalgic growl. The thought, the memory was just making him angry. “I tried trusting another group a while after, they tried to kill me because I scraped my arm on cement, they thought I was bit. Didn’t even look like a bite mark,” he huffed a laugh at that one. It had been funny now that he thought about it, but not at the time.

“What about the start?” the old lady asked, her face stone solid and emotionless.

“I was in a pretty small group, but they were being eaten or were dead while I was scavenging with another guy. When we got back to the group, who were all dead at that point, he freaked out, started shooting and got eaten, I made a run for it,” he explained pretty easily. He didn’t like the thoughts about the group, but he never really liked them. They were all pricks in his opinion. He’d been their bitch at the time, their lapdog. When they said equal shares in everything, they meant everything was on Lucus.

“You just ran away?!” the girl with a bit of an accent sounded incredulous. It sort of pissed him off. Didn’t she listen?

“They were dead! What was I supposed to do?!” his voice raised a little, his brows knitted together. “Stay and get killed?! I couldn’t have done anything to help!” he yelled back and noticed the way the Asian looked like he was getting closer to her, a little in front of her like he was trying to protect her.

“Notice the pattern?” he suddenly spoke, quiet and almost dark. There was a pattern to it all. Every group he’d been in. He always ended up on his own, whether they were dead or not. “It’s easier when I’m alone. Trust isn’t an issue and I don’t get hurt,” Plus he was faster and didn’t have to worry about leaving anyone or getting left behind. It also helped that he used to practise Parkour. He wasn’t like the really good guys that could flip, balance on fences or leap from wall to wall and then end up on a roof and stuff, he was more average, like he was learning. He could bounce from wall to wall, but he could just about reach the alley ladders for an apartment building. He could sprint fast and slip over or under fences. He could jump through windows and land perfectly.

“Don’t you get lonely?” it was like the kid was just too innocent. He was asking the questions that related to his feelings. Family, friends, trust, lonely. The things that kids usually worried about.

“I’m not gonna lie. It does get lonely, but I’d rather be alone than-... whatever, forget it,” he shrugged and looked away from them, staring at some random spot at the other end of the street. Like these guys would care. “Like any of you’d care, you’ll probably just mug me and leave me for dead,” he muttered childishly.

“What makes you think we’d mug you?” the old lady asked, her arms crossing tighter over her chest. She had that... parent-look about her, like he was about to get lectured.

“Everyone mugs everyone now. You don’t get the nice groups, the ones that are genuinely honest to god people that care or want to help someone that’s seriously in trouble,” he remembered something. Something he wished he could’ve just erased from his mind. It gave him chills and he wanted to kill the guys that did it.

“I lost my faith in other humans when I saw something not that long ago,” he paused to stand up, the hunters arrow pointed at him again. “It made me feel sick to my stomach and I stared avoiding everyone, the dead, the living. I felt ashamed of what we are. I felt ashamed to be a human,” he gave an irritated look to the ground, sighing to calm his nerves.

“I think we’ve seen everything since this all starte-,” Lucus started laughing, a hand coming up to cover his mouth. Yeah, he doubted they’d seen anything like it. What they saw wasn’t the worst. “What’s so funny?” the girl with the off accent asked, her brows knitted.

“No, no you haven’t,” he smiled sadly, the smile starting to turn into a frown and he felt his ducts sting. He wasn’t going to cry from his thoughts. There was no point. He’d lost faith in humans, he shouldn’t care anymore.

“This couple, along with a small group, were in a town not that far from here. I was there, hiding out in one of the fortified buildings, looking around,” he paused and swallowed the dry lump in his throat. “They had a baby that wouldn’t stop crying, it was whaling its lungs out. Obviously, noise attracts Croats... they left the baby in the middle of an open area and hid...” his breaths started getting faster and faster, his heart pumping. “The dead started crowding around it, surrounding it. The group snuck away. They left that baby to die. It was just younger than a toddler and it was being ripped apart right in front of me. The screams, they turned to shrieks...” he looked at their faces, seeing the blunt and open traumatized expressions. They looked shaken, outrage, appalled, astonished.

“That’s why I stay away from humans. I’m not so bothered that they’d leave a grown man or woman, we can look out for ourselves, but leaving a helpless baby?” he shook his head a looked away, already hearing the old woman speak a word that was an absolute understatement to what he was thinking.

“That’s inhuman,” she whispered. The kid, Asian and the accent girl were speechless. The old lady looked like she was on the verge of crying, her cheeks red, but no tears. The hunter dude, he was just staring at him, fixed on him. Maybe he was trying to focus on him instead of the story. The guy seemed like he was the guarded type, the ones that liked to hide their feelings and stuff. Macho, emotionless, I can fight anything, guy.

“And I thought Walkers were bad,” the kid finally said, his voice shaky and in disbelief. Walker? Is that what they were calling the dead guys? Like him calling them Croats? Speaking of Croats, there were some walking towards them from the other end of the street. They were pretty far away, so it didn’t really matter. He was going to leave anyway, hopefully. He was about sixty percent sure that he was going to be stopped by them, but with any luck that he still had, maybe they were the forty percent.

“Well, nice meeting you guys,” he said quietly and reached down to grab his bag, slinging it over his back and then reached down to grab his weapons. He really wanted to leave now. He hadn’t spent this long with other humans since he was last in a group.

“Where’re you going?” the kid asked, all of them suddenly at attention. Guess they might’ve been the sixty.

“Away from here,” he raised a brow. “You guys busted out the window to my fortified place, so I gotta get moving to find another one before nightfall,” he explained simply, gesturing to the building with the broken window. Yeah, there was no way he was going to be able to fix that... “Besides, you guys know where I am now, if I didn’t get going you could come back and rob me, or kill me, or open the doors and let the dead in so I’d be eaten by morning,” he smiled like it was nothing and turned around to walk away, quickly stopping when he saw ‘ _quite a few_ ’ Croats. That was bad...

He turned around and looked behind the group, his eyes widening a little. There were dead guys walking towards them from both sides of the street.

“Uhh... we’re a little surrounded guys,” he pointed out and they were instantly on alert, everyone pulling out there weapons, including him, a machete in both hands. The dead were closing in on both sides, getting closer and closer. “Anyone got a plan?” the kid asked hopefully. Lucus never was one for planning ahead in this kind of situation. He usually avoided at all costs and that’d worked for him so far.

“Don’t die?” the accented girl said in a questioning tone.

“Get the hell outta dodge,” the hunter guy added, everyone now making a circle to cover every angle. It sort of felt bizarre. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d done this.

“No one gets left behind,” he heard himself say, calm, composed. It was too weird him saying those words to people he didn’t even know. He remembered someone saying it back in one of his old groups. He wasn’t loyal to the group he was with at the moment, but they seemed like good folk. He didn’t ‘want’ them to die, he’d help and that was it. He’d be gone. Seriously, he was too nice for the world they were in. It was going to get him killed.

“Hey,” the Asian called, a hand tapping his shoulder from behind. Lucus took a quick glance at the guy. “You said that the house you were hiding in was fortified?” he huffed and shook his head.

“Yeah, it ‘was’, but then you busted the window... thanks by the way,” he muttered the last part. They’d be able to jump through the window, no problem, but the Croats would be able to get in through there too. What would they be able to use to cover it up? A table on its side wouldn’t work, neither would a board or cupboard. He’d used most the ones downstairs to cover up the doors and other windows.

“To the house!” the old woman yelled and they all burst into a sprint towards it, Lucus being the last one because he had heavier things. Most of them were through the window when he got there, the hunter waiting on him. He gave him a look before tossing his stuff through and then parkouring through head first, doing a little roll for a good landing. He grabbed his shit and threw it aside out of the way and started helping the group try to cover the wall with stuff, stacking things, higher and higher and making sure what they used was heavy things.

He stepped back and looked around the room, deciding to check through the thin cracks in the other widow, leaning close and squinting. There were a lot out there, all of them piling on the porch and on the street, more gathering from noticing that the other Croats found something.

“How long are we going to be stuck here?” the kid asked, sounding shaky and nervous. They weren’t stuck completely... there was that window up-

He grabbed his stuff and shot up stairs, in a full sprint and skipping two steps each time. He ran to the window after dropping his things on the bed and stuck his head out, hearing a few people of the group follow. Maybe the back wasn’t crowded and they could just scuttle around and jump down without being noticed by them. Lucus bit his lip, debating on whether he should take the risk. The roof wasn’t really a safe place to be, especially with the kid.

He’d take it...

“Hold this,” he said, taking his jacket off to show his light grey t-shirt and shoving it into the hunters’ hand. He just stared at him guarded and held it in his grip. “I’ll be right back,” he needed to check how safe it was and let them know. And hopefully get out of there alive.

“Where’re you going?!” the kid asked, his voice filled with concern as he stepped forward. Lucus smiled at him and patted his shoulder, instantly feeling like he was getting to know him... which was a bad thing. He didn’t know squat about the kid, but it was like he was starting to.

“Don’t worry kid. Just goin’ around the back to check it out,” he grinned and turned away, flexibly getting out through the window and again, kneeling on all fours. He was lighter now that he didn’t have his stuff with him, so he was a lot faster than before. He took a quick glance behind him and saw the hunter keeping his eyes on him, his expression serious. “Gettin’ a good view?” he joked, instantly seeing a scowl and he just smirked back.

He made it to the corner and turned, still going. He kept going straight until reached the other corner and inched towards the edge, taking a quick look down. Five Croats, three under him and two on the forest edge. Easy enough to take care of. One or two of the guys or girls can kill them, keep them off their backs while they got the others down. Plan done and dusted.

He quickly turned around and headed back, going around the corner again, seeing the hunter still watching, until he reached the window and climbed back in, leaning back against the frame with crossed arms. The group looked expectant.

“Okay, so five dead guys around the back, at least. Easy enough to take care of for Katniss Everdean,” he gestured to the hunter with a nod. All he got was strange, confused looks. Seriously, no one understood that reference? Dude, hunger games?!

“Nevermind...” he paused to sigh and then turned to the hunter. “You got the quietest long ranged weapon. Take out a few Croats and we can start lowering people. I’d suggested the guys go first, the girls and kid go last,”

“You don’t think we can take care of ourselves?!” the accented girl said incredulously. He just shook his head. This woman was being a pain. Was it her time of the month or something?

“No, I think you can handle a weapon like any guy can. What I’m saying is, it’s a long drop, you’d end up hurting yourselves on impact, the kid would definitely get hurt. While one or two guys are killing Croats, the other can catch you when you’re lowering yourselves over the edge,” he said it all very unenthusiastically, like he had to explain everything over and over again.

“Hey... uh...” he glanced to the kid. “You keep calling them Croats...” was that really what he focused on? Did this kid have ADD or something?

“They’re just different words for them,” he explained simply. “Anyway, robin-hood goes first-,”

“How’d we know you’re not just tossing us into the fire?” the Asian asked, crossing his arms over his chest. He looked somewhat reluctant.

“Because I’m going right after him,” he stepped over to the bed and grabbed his things, firmly locking his rifle over his back and then putting the bag on over it and clipping the whole thing into place, checking to feel if he had everything. His machete strapped to his thighs, his pistol in his belt above his ass, his riffle, his bag... everything was a big check sign.

“How ‘bout you go first,” it wasn’t a request and Lucus just shook his head at the lack of trust he was getting. Yeah, they’d just met, but seriously. This was an unhealthy amount of distrust.

He paused by the window, turning to smirk back at the hunter. “If I didn’t know better I’d say you liked looking at my ass,” he winked mockingly and climbed out, easily dismissing the pissed look he got. He was pushing it, he knew he was getting close to the guys line, probably even crossed it and the man was just trying to hold it together. If he kept it up, he was going to get a good beating.

He shuffled on hands and knees around the first corner, hearing the group gradually follow behind him, the hunter being the first. He could hear that crossbow from a mile away every time it came into contact with the roof surface.

Lucus was at the edge of the roof at the back of the house when he felt the guy saddle up at his side, his face serious while he stared down at the Croats walking around. He nodded a little, like he was confirming what he’d said before when he got back into the bedroom. He brought up his weapon and shot one of them, one or two turning around as it got their attention and he just shot again and again and again until most of them were gone.

He reached down to the roofs edge and turned, gripping it as he gradually lowered himself until he was hanging and then dropped, instantly grabbing his machete and tossing his bag from his shoulders to the ground. He turned around and saw a few of the dead coming their way, hobbling towards them from the backs of the other houses and from the tree line. He and the hunter, who he vaguely remembered was called Daryl, started killing, swinging swords and shooting. He could hear the drop of the Asian and then a few others, which he assumed was the women and kid.

“Aright, let’s go,” he heard the hunter yell and Lucus instantly grabbed his stuff, locking it over his back again and followed behind everyone. He’d veer off on his own once they were out of danger, they wouldn’t care. He wasn’t a threat because he got them out, he helped them.

\----------

The group was panting and huffing, a few of them resting from all the running they’d done. Apparently they weren’t that far from the car they’d used to get to the town, it was on the edge of the road on the edge of the area he’d been hiding out and they ran along the outterline of the trees. Lucus hadn’t actually realized that and they were more than halfway there.

It was about time he left then. It’d be awkward as hell if he followed them all the way and then left. He may as well get going before then.

“Guess I’ll see you guys,” he said with a smile and slowly started to turn away and headed into the forest, only jetting a few steps when he felt a grip on his arm. He turned to see the accented woman, her expression unreadable and her grip tightened a little, wavering a little.

“Stay with us, at least for a few days to rest up,” she suggested and Lucus just knitted his brow. He couldn’t stay. He always ended up alone and he didn’t want that kind of rejection of feeling again. He wanted to go with them, but... trust, his trust issues. He eyed her for a second, searching her. He turned to look at the Asian, the kid, the older woman, the hunter...

“Please?” the kid asked with a little whine. He was trying to urge him with that innocent face. Did he just become a hero or something? Like hero-worship?

“We could probably use a hand on scavenges,” the Asian sighed his sentence, like he wasn’t into the idea, but it was starting to look like he’d hang around them anyway, like he thought it was inevitable now. Both women and the kid wanted him there, so it was three on two.

Lucus eyed the hunter again, he wanted him to say no so he could leave.... please say no so he could leave. Please, please, please... It’d be enough if just one of them said no, c’mon man, be a bro! Say no!

“... Need Rick’s say so,” ... that wasn’t a no... He inwardly sighed and grumbled at the guy.

“You sure you can handle being around my sarcasm, teasing, references, jokes... me in general?”

“I’ll just ignore you,” he swore he saw a hint of a twitch in the corner of his lips. Was he enjoying this? Did he know that Lucus wanted him to say no? Did he know he wanted to leave and just forget the day happened? ... Dick move!

“Great,” he shrugged at him...

“Good,” the hunter started walking off.

“Fantastic,” he and the group started to follow.

“Awesome,” ... did they just...

\----------

A Hyundai, they drove a Hyundai, and a pretty new and surprisingly clean one too. It was big, bulky and a very horrible shade of green.

He reluctantly handed over his things, feeling bare without his weapons and bags as they were carefully put in the boot. The older woman was in the driver’s seat and the kid had shotgun. Asian and accented girl, who he assumed were a couple were sitting close on one side of the car, making room for the hunter and himself.

“Sorry for all the gay jokes by the way,” he said as he leaned against the back side of the car, watching as the guy organized everything to fit. He closed it and stepped over to him, his eyes seeming to search him. He opened the door and scooted in, making room for him.

“Could just sit on your lap, it’d much easier,” he winked at him and instantly got another scowl. “What? I said sorry, didn’t say I was gonna stop,” he chuckled as he got in, closing the door behind him and got comfortable. He felt an arm snake behind his head as the car started moving, the hunters hand on his right side, but not touching him. He’d made room so they wouldn’t have that much contact.

“So...” he heard shuffling in the seat in front of him and saw the kid poke his head up and turn to look at him. “What’s your name? I’m Carl,” he smiled a little.

“Lucus,” he answered and smiled back a little crookedly.

“I’m Maggie,” the accented girl said from the other side of the back seats, the guy next to her saying a quick ‘Glenn’ and the woman at the driver’s seat giving a sweet ‘Carol’. He could easily tell she was playing nice. She’d more than likely be able to skin him or break him in seconds if he did something wrong.

“And modern day Rambo here’s Daryl,” he made it sound like he’d put the names to faces, like he was confirming the kid naming them earlier.

“Good movies,” he grinned at the hunters’ sentence. He was right. Rambo was awesome, all the movies were pretty cool. He grew up with the action figures and little skits and movies.

“Want me call you Rambo while I’m here?” he joked.

\----------

The guys lived in a prison. How awesome was that? For years, people have been trying to stay out of jail, but in a world with the dead coming to life and walking it was the safest place. Was that ironic or what? The place looked pretty fortified. They had people and kids inside, running around and even a farming area in the grass in the middle of the field. It looked like they’d been there a while and was doing good.

Lucus wished that he’d met this group when all the shit hit the fan. He’d gladly help these guys out if he joined them a while ago, before he met the other groups that gave him his damn trust issues. Everyone here looked happy and safe and he’d wanted that for so long.

He looked out the window as the gates opened, enough for them to get through, and let a small smile grow as he saw a few people coming to see group, to greet them.

“We’ll put your stuff in your cell. Only you and a select few get access,” Carol said as the car park. He was grateful for that. He didn’t want anyone getting into his bags and grabbing at his stuff. He never was one for sharing his things. His sister would tell you that.

“Thanks,” he smiled at her and got out of the car, Daryl following. He stepped away as another ragged guy came towards them, a black woman at his side and they looked at him, scanning him over a couple of times. Carol stopped at his side, his things in her hands. He reached down and grabbed the heavier bags, giving her a little smile that she returned. “Looks like the kinda guy that’d tear my throat out with his bare hand,” he joked and glanced at the man.

“Oh, that’s just the way he looks. He’s a big softy on the inside,” he could tell that was a lie, a joke.

“Yeah, I’ll believe that,” he said sarcastically and then straightened up as they walked towards him, his face set in a firm, unreadable frown. If this guy was their leader, he needed to be careful. He didn’t want to stay, but he was sure if he was kicked out, this guy would leave him with nothing...

“Rick...” he paused, looking him over before reaching out his hand. He gradually held his hand out and took it, making sure he wasn’t shaking. This guy was actually intimidating him, making him feel more than vulnerable.

“Lucus,” he said back, his voice strong and unwavering.

“How many Walkers you killed?” he suddenly asked.

“A lot,” he answered simply. It was more than he could count, because he killed a lot of them, not because he couldn’t count very high. _(Bit of a reference there)_

“How many humans?” his voice seemed to deepen, getting dangerous. It unnerved him more. He was tempted just to walk away right then and there.

“A few... but they needed to be put down,” it looked like the man noticed his subtle hint in his tone, that they’d been dangerous and he had no choice but to get rid of them.

“A few days, after that, you’re gone,” was all he said and then he turned to leave, his posture and step showing his dominance and leadership... this dude was damaged, more than guarded, but came out on top and became a really respected man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2 chapter. Hope you liked it.


	3. Chapter 3

The guy must’ve been short on time because that was the fasted review he’d ever had. It was seriously quick. Way faster than any job review.

He just eyed him as he walked away and sighed, leaving out the air he never realized he held in. Did he intimidate him that much? He wondered what he must’ve been like before everything went down, before all the dead started walking.

“C’mon, I’ll take you to your cell,” Carol said and started walking. Lucus quickly caught up and walked behind her, glancing around on the way. Cell? He had a cell? The must’ve been using them as bedrooms. He had to admit that he was surprised by how many people were there. The place was just filled with adults, kids, a few old people. Did they collect others along the way? Like recruiting or something?

They walked up through a fence at the top of the yard and strode along a concrete area until they reached a few steps that led up into the building.

\----------

It was like they had a protocol for new guys that showed up at the prison. He figured out that the people they knew or trusted went through the cell door on the right and the ones that were new and not trusted go through the left, to another cell block. He’d dropped his stuff off and Carol had taken him back to the main area, where they walked through to go to both cell blocks. There was another guy there, he really didn’t like him. He kept eyeing Lucus while he played with his knife hand thing.

“That’s Merle,” he snapped his eyes to Carl, seeing his snort at him as he sat down. The kid was really getting attached to him and he felt bad about it. He didn’t want anyone getting close to him. It was dangerous and he wouldn’t be here long.

“He’s creepin’ me out,” he whispered so only the kid could hear and caught the laugh he let out.

“Dad said that you probably wouldn’t be in that other block long. He was talking with me, Carol, Glenn, Maggie and Daryl and judged you on what they said. We trusted you and you pulled through. We talked about how you acted and talked to us too. I think he thinks you’re okay,” he explained. Lucus didn’t know whether he was trying to make him feel better about being there, or he was being honest.

“Just ‘okay’? I’m not awesome? I should get a medal from what happened out there,” he joked, sitting on the table with his boots on the bench. “Hell, I’m surprised Daryl hasn’t got me back from making all those gay jokes,” he chuckled, Carl laughing with him, though it dulled down and he seemed contemplative.

“Why do you joke about him being gay? I’ve never seen him have a thing for a guy, or a girl now that I think about it,” he didn’t know. It just came out like that. He was gay himself, though he never really admitted it outloud. He’d always gotten into trouble whenever someone found out, so he kept it to himself, especially in the time they were in now, with all the dead. There weren’t many people that understood him left.

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. He’d admit to himself, that he liked the guys’ reactions, the scowls or glares that were sent his way. He liked having the guys’ attention... it wasn’t like he _liked_ him that way or anything. He just liked annoying him, getting his attention, playing with him, messing with him... that actually... it actually sounded like one of those little kid crushes, like in elementary or something. Like the boy picked on the girl because he liked her or whatever. This was ‘not’ one of those things... he hoped.

“Do you like him?” was that an innocent question or was he gesturing to a crush sort of ‘like him’? Yeah, he liked him, he was fun to mess with. He might go as far as saying that he’d stick with him and have his back if he stayed longer. He didn’t know if he’d go as far to say that he _liked him_ liked him.

“Yeah, he’s a cool guy. He’s a bad-ass,” did he really just call him that? Yeah, he was a bad-ass, but that word was so old and cheesy now. Seriously, that word was hip back when he was Carl’s age, like six, seven years ago?

“I think everyone in the prison thinks he is too,” he chuckled. “We all admire him, we look up to him,” so everyone hero-worshipped Daryl? It wasn’t hard to imagine. He’d admire him too if he thought deep enough on it. He was more than sure that guy looked out for the group, provided for them. It wasn’t hard to believe that he cared for everyone and helped out whenever he could or when he was needed. He was a guy you could look up to. A saviour, a good hearted guy... he actually felt sort of bad that he irritated him for the few hours he’d been with them.

“Think I might apologize for annoying him,” he muttered quietly and knitted his brow in thought. He could catch him when he sees him next and tell him.

“He’s outside helping with the fence. Want me to go get him?” he could wait. He had a few hours before everyone gathered around for food around a campfire. He’d go out and wait in the sun or he could see if anyone needed some help, maybe Carol wanted someone helping her out with farming.

“Nah, s’aright. I’ll hang around, I got all day,” he smiled and dropped from the table, pocketing his hands as he made his way towards the door. He could hear Carl following him, probably wanting to know what he was doing or something. He pushed on the door and stepped out into the heat, the sun blearing down on him. He actually regretted wearing his jacket in this weather and he was tempted to walk back in to put it in his cell with the rest of his shit.

He stopped and looked around, instantly noticing Daryl with a big group working on the fencing at the end of the prison yard where the concrete turned to grass. He had a lot of help so Lucus decided to look for Carol down in the grass. He gave the hunter a smirk as he passed him, getting a nod in return and made his way down the path to where she was feeding and cleaning the animal pens.

“Hey boys,” she smiled when she noticed them walking towards her and then carried on with cleaning up the hay in the chicken coop. He leaned his hands on the wooden fence and grinned.

“Need any help? I could take over so you can have a break?” he offered and saw her smile back at him.

“You have amazing timing. I was about to get Sasha or Tyreese to take over,” she sounded a little tired now that he noticed. He was glad he showed up when he did.

“Okay, so what am I doing?” he asked as he leaned back and took his jacket off, leaving him in his light grey t-shirt and bare-armed. He easily jumped the fence and rounded her as she climbed out. He knew he was changing the hay, but he’d never actually done any farming before, this was his first.

“Drag all the hay into a pile and shove it in that big plastic bag. Once you’re done with that, spread the clean hay out flat, in the coop and just outside. Do the same with the pigs,” she explained easy enough and he started to get to work, using his hands and the small rake to get the hay together before dragging it to the corner of the pen closest to the bag. He reached into the coop and heard the quiet ‘chirping’? Did chickens chirp? It sounded more like a ‘baaaaack’. Whatever, he heard them making noise and felt the little pecks he kept getting. They didn’t hurt or anything. He grabbed the rest of the hay from inside and dragged it all out, making sure there wasn’t any left before he tossed it all into the bag and squashed it all in.

Once that was done he lifted the bag over the fence and grabbed the new one, pulling it in and then dropping it at his feet. He’d worked up a little sweat and ended up pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it onto his jacket next to the lounging Carol and Carl. Seriously... slackers. He laughed at the teasing wolf-whistle he got from her when she looked at him. He was definitely ‘not’ ashamed of his body. He was well toned and muscular, but not huge. He sort of had the same muscle shape as Ryan Reynolds, but sharper, thinner under the ribs and a lot paler. He had a sort of upside down lamp shape to him, and he made it look _goooooood_.

\----------

Lucus wiped the sweat from his brow and rested his hands on the waistband of his trousers, his thumbs slipping a little on the sweat on his hip bones. Nearly two hours and he was finished with the chickens, pigs and he even did the goats for Carol. He was panting a little, his chest rising and falling deeply.

“Put him to work huh?” he snapped his head to see Daryl and a blonde girl staring at him, the hunters’ arms crossed while he looked him up and down for a second.

“Oh yeah, she was whippin’ me an’ everything,” he joked and heard the scoff leave her.

“No, no I didn’t. He came over and offered to help like a good little boy,” she teased back and he felt his mouth open wide with a smile. He scoffed back and leaned his hands on the wooden fencing.

“I’m anything but little,” he whined a little. He really liked these guys, they were funny and dished out what they received. He really wished that they were the ones he met at the start, when the dead started walking and everything turned into live or die. Not even a full day and he was the happiest he’d been in ages.

“Keep telling yourself that,” Daryl snarked with a little flex and that made him grin. The guy actually joked back! Progress! This was awesome, delicious progress!

“Like you can talk,” he retorted and saw the faint challenging look in his eyes.

“Bet I could outman you,” the guy smirked at him. This was seriously turning into a competition for who’s manlier. They stared at each other, their eyes locked hard and steady. Was this like a ‘fight for dominance stare contest’?

“I have an idea!” the blonde girl chirped up, her arms raising high and seeming really happy. “Wrestling!” she almost yelled. “Whoever wins is the manliest!”

“I’m game,” he said without looking away. He was getting into this. His pride and manliness was on the line. He was so not losing this. He was pretty sure Daryl couldn’t say no because that meant that he won by default and that would hurt his pride. It was getting serious really quick.

“Let’s get this over with,” he muttered, and pulled his crossbow off and gently put it next to Lucus’s shirt and jacket. He climbed out of the pen and they both moved a little ways away so they wouldn’t hurt anyone or break the coop or anything. Carl, Carol and the girl were watching them, all smiling and looking like they were making bets.

“This’ll be fun,” he mumbled under his breath.

“Not for you,” the hunter shot back.

“Ready guys?” the blonde smiled and raised her arm, like she was the ref or something. Well, she basically was since she was the one that got this started. They both lowered a little, their stance ready and waiting. He would so win this. He had to. He was eager for this and if he lost he was sure he wouldn’t here the end of it. “Go!” she yelled.

They were only a few feet away from each other, so connecting was fast. Their hands on each others shoulders and they were pushing hard, trying to get the other to budge. Lucus actually felt his boots skid back an inch or two, but that was because Daryl was a little bigger, he had a bit more power to him. That meant that he had to tire him out somehow, but wrestling wasn’t like that. Either you had to be fast or strong. Lucus had to be fast in this scenario.

\---------- _I suck at wrestling fights -_- skip about ten-fifteen minutes_

He grunted and felt the air leave him when he ended up face down in the grass, one arm locked above his head and the other almost painfully secured behind his back, holding him there with his ass end a little higher and pressed against the guys thigh, which was between both legs. This was a _very_ provocative and rousing position because it looked... dirty, naughty. Seriously, if he just rolled his hips a little, it would be considered dry-rubbing. He’d be humping Daryl.

And he would’ve made a joke, but he remembered what he said before, about wanting to apologize to him about all that, so he kept his mouth shut.

“Give up?” the hunter urged, panting and sweating against the back of his neck. They were so hot and warm against each other, he would’ve considered it if his manlihood wasn’t on the line. He was actually feeling like he’d lose, even more so when he continued to think of the position they were in.

“No!” he strained, feeling his body protest to his words and Daryl’s grip on his arms. He only moved it an inch up his back and he winced. “No!” he said stubbornly again, only feeling his arm strain and ache.

“Call Uncle!” he pushed again.

“I ain’t calling him!” he tried to struggle, only managing to make it hurt a little more and rub back on the hunters’ leg. He freaking humped him!

“Call him!”

“No!-,”

“What’s goin’ on here?” that was Rick. He was still stuck, being firmly held down. He couldn’t look up or anything.

“Testosterone match,” he heard Carol giggle. A few of them chuckled and he felt the grip on him give a warning clench.

“Say it!” Daryl urged again and Lucus tried to struggle again, avoiding rolling back so he wouldn’t dry-hump him again.

“Bite me!” he shot back and felt his wrist shift higher. It was a good thing he was pretty flexible. Seriously, how was his arm still there? He could still here them talking, Rick asking ‘how long they been at it’ and his reply was ‘nearly twenty minutes’. Him and the dark girl he was still with just laughed.

“Well, foods ready, so you’ll have to finish this later,” the guy said and then the grip on him suddenly disappeared and he fell flat on the floor, Daryl looming over him.

“Make it a tie,” he moved both arms to help him push himself off of the floor, wincing a little when he put pressure on the one that had been at his back. He was almost dragged up by the hunter by his other arm, nearly making him topple over.

“Dude, that’s just as bad as losing,” he almost whined as the group started to leave, him and the hunter being the last to get a move on since they had to grab their things. Daryl grabbed his weapon and Lucus grabbed his shirt and jacket.

“Yeah, well I wasn’t gonna lose and you’re as stubborn as a damn horse. Coulda broken your arm,” did he sense concern? _Me thinks I did_. He smirked at him.

“Postpone?” he asked. He easily noticed the faint smile that graced his lips. He stopped for a second to slip his shirt on and groaned a little when his arm started aching when he slid his arm up and through the hole.

“Not with your arm like that,” the hunter walked over and gently grabbed his elbow, moving it carefully like he was testing the damage, seeing if it was bad or not. It surprised him that he could switch that fast between big, tough guy, to soft, gently nurse. He would’ve made a joke, but then remembered that he was supposed to apologize for all the ones he’d made.

“I-uh... I’m sorry about all the jokes. I was talking With Carl and-,”

“Don’t start treatin’ me like some hero or saviour or some shit,” he was suddenly looking sternly into his eyes, completely serious. “I don’t like it, enough people treat me like some big shot and it just pisses me off. I can count on one hand, how many people treat me like some normal guy, you’re one of ‘em,” he was definitely serious and now he felt bad for even bringing it up. He wanted him to treat him like a normal guy? Like a friend or something? Fine.

“Okay, so first off... that position we were in back there? Did you plan to put me in such a sexual place? Seriously, I felt like if I moved even a little bit backwards I would’ve been humping your thigh,” he smirked and heard the scoff leave Daryl. “Were you getting off on that?”

The hunter seemed to stop for a second, like he was thinking and Lucus thought that he may have actually said something wrong... until the guy got a little closer, only a few inches away.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say ‘you’ were gay and you wanted me. Huh? You want me to mess you up? Make it so you can't think straight?” he was right up in his face and it made him fluster a little, almost to the point he'd blush red. Was he messing with him now? It was awesome if he was. He was biting back at his humor. He decided to take a step further, closer to him. He’d play his game.

“Maybe... maybe I want you to touch me, dirty me,” he rested his hand on Daryl’s abdomen. “Maybe I want you to make me feel good. That position you had me in a while ago made me feel hot and bothered. I’d let you be rough with me,” he was practically purring now and he could see something in the guys expression. He just couldn’t tell what it was. He ran his fingers down over the man’s belt, teasing a little bit. “Lock me down, pin me, leave marks on me...” he trailed off, his face nearly touching Daryl’s. “... Or maybe you know better,” he smirked and pulled away, walking around the hunter and turning so he was walking backwards. He noticed the look on his face and winked at him, turning back around. He knew he didn’t leave him there, he could hear the faint footsteps a little ways behind him.

He’d actually gone a little further than he thought he would. Did he cross a line back there?

\----------

He sat in his cell, eating the food he saved while he sprawled out on his bunk. He didn’t know if he went too far earlier. Daryl said that he wanted him to treat him like he did throughout the day, but he didn’t say ‘verbally molest him’. He even teased him! He ran his fingers over his stomach over his belt, like he was going to gently caress his crotch or something. Did he do a bad? Did he just ruin whatever they had together? They were acquaintances, but he felt drawn to the guy. He liked him, he really did. He was fun to hang and mess with.

He dipped his spoon into his warmed beans and left it there for a few seconds, listening, thinking. He really didn’t want Daryl to hate him or avoid him now. He didn’t like that thought.

“You’re Lucus?” he snapped his eyes up to an old man standing in his cell’s doorway, leaning on crutches. He quickly flailed to sit up and put his beans down, making sure not to spill them.

“Yeah-uh... Lucus Cooper,” he awkwardly held his not aching arm out and got a shake in response.

“Hershel. Daryl said that he may have been a little too rough when you wrestled?” he asked and he could only nod back. So he wasn’t upset with him? He didn’t hate him or anything? He was a little relieved at that. “Said you’re arm was hurt,” he continued.

“Uh-yeah, but it’s not that bad, just a little ache,” he smiled, the man seeming a little amused.

“Jacket and shirt off, sit,” he stood hesitantly for a second, but eventually did as he was told and sat down, his leather and shirt already off and tossed to the pillow on his bed. He sat there as the guy came in, carefully putting his crutches down and sitting next to him. He swiftly got down to checking his arm, the reflexes, flexibility, how high he could lift it and stuff. It ached a couple more times, but he figured it wasn’t that bad, and by the look on the man’s face, he thought it wasn’t too.

“So, what’s the damage?” he asked with a smile.

“Stretched tendons, no need to worry. They’ll fix up through the night and by tomorrow afternoon, the aching should be gone,” he stood from the bed after grabbing his crutches. “May I ask how you managed to get Daryl to wrestle with you?” ... was that a surprise or something? Was it not the norm for the guy not to wrestle?

“Uh... well, we were being snarky with each other about who was manlier and a little, blonde girl suggested we wrestle, so we did. Daryl called be a stubborn horse because I wouldn’t say uncle and... well, my arm was locked behind me, pretty high up too,” he gestured to his arm.

“It’s... very...” he didn’t know what to say. It was like he didn’t know how to finish or even start the sentence. “Daryl’s never been very social, and he's never wrestled with anyone before, since I’ve known him anyway. He was always dark, anti-social, he only ever spoke when spoken to or needed to,” hang on, so Daryl never really acted the way he was with him, with anyone else? If that didn’t make him feel a little bit special.

“So... the way he acts with me?” he asked, his brow knitting. He was really curious about the hunter now.

“Is very strange, it’s the first I’ve heard of him acting like that,” he suddenly smiled at him, seeming pleased. “You haven’t been here a full day and you’re bringing him out of a dark shell,” he felt really good about himself all of a sudden. No one had ever said that to him and he never really noticed that he’d pulled the guy from hiding. He could feel the grin growing on his face, getting wide.

“Your arm is fine, just let it rest over night and you should feel better tomorrow,” he smiled and started to leave his room, his crutches clinking as he left the cell block.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's a little short, but only by a few hundred words. It's only down to about 4.000 though, so there isn't much difference. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3.000 ish words, sorry it's shorter than the others :/

Through most of that night he’d thought about what the old man said, about Daryl and how he acted when around other people and then around him. It made him feel pretty good with himself that he could get the guy to be open and happy around him, but then he thought about the day they had, right around the end when he messed with him. He felt awesome with himself and then he felt like a dick when he thought on it.

Also, he had an idea on why he joked around with him, you know, all the gay and sex jokes and stuff... sexual frustration and tension. Lucus hadn’t had time to... ‘Unblock the hose’... if you got his drift. ‘Spank the monkey, resealed the valve, let one out’ etcetera. And if you didn’t get it, he just needed some time to jackoff. Daryl was the only person next to ‘sex on legs’ he’d seen in a really long time. The guy was a handsomely rugged badass that had one hell-of-a body. If the guy was into other dudes he’d definitely be up for some one-on-one action.

But, he was pretty sure the guy wasn’t into dudes, let alone him. He was a wind-up that made a few off-putting jokes. He was surprised the hunter still hung around him.

\----------

“ _Wake up_ ,” he faintly heard someone whisper. He groaned and turned on the bed, moving to lie face down with his arms wrapping around the pillow, his face nuzzling into the soft cushion.

“Five more minutes,” he mumbled into it, the sound muffled. He was really tired and he was pretty sure that was from not being able to sleep the night before. Yeah, the bed was a lot better than what he normally slept on, but it was a bitch to get comfy on, and all that thinking flew by and it was really late by the time he actually fell asleep.

Lucus faintly felt something on his jeans, just under his ass at the top of his thigh and it made him groggily furrow his brow. He didn’t know what it was and to be honest, he couldn’t have cared less, he was really tired.

It gradually moved up, slipping to press on his ass cheek and he shifted a little, arching his lower back and bending one leg a little. It was warm while it rested there, just pressed against his ass. He vaguely felt it grope gently and groaned a little into the pillow, not a ‘oh that felt good’ but a ‘dammit, I’m tired, get lost’ sort of groan, though it did feel nice, like an ass massage. It soon left him, the area feeling a little chilli for a second, but in that split second his ass erupted in stinging pain when it felt like someone slapped him pretty hard with the straight palm of his hand and damn! It felt like the old spanks he used to get when he was a freaking kid!

He yelled and instantly launched from his position, hitting his head on the top bunk and dropping into a crouch on his side, holding his head and ass. He looked like he was in a loose fettle position.

“That was for yesterday,” he looked up and saw a smug Daryl leaning against his bed. He practically growled at him and glared. “Don’ look at me like that, you deserved it,” he smirked and stood away from the bed as Lucus moved to climb out and stand, still rubbing both his head and ass. “We got patrol duty, get your ass in gear,” he said as he moved to leave the cell.

“The hell am I supposed to get my ass in gear after you spanked me like that?” and those words instantly gave him fuel for jokes. “Are you into spanking?” he grabbed his pistol and machete, strapping them to his legs as he followed after him without his jacket, getting close enough to whisper. “I can deal with a little rough spanking,” he said seductively. He heard a snort and then he shook his head. He was still blaming the sexual frustration for all of it.

“You into being spanked?” was the hunters scoffed the question as they left the cell block, going through the main hall area where that Merle guy was cleaning his knife-hand.

“You want the teasing answer or the serious one?” he smirked as he glanced over at him, seeing the raised brow and tilt in the corner of his lip. Did he actually want to know? Because he wasn’t sure. He’d never been spanked before, except when he was a kid, but that wasn’t the fun spanking. He was a little curious.

Daryl just shrugged at him and they walked out into the scorching sun, thankful that he didn’t take his jacket. He would’ve melted and died if he wore his leather.

“Both answers are the same,” his smirk widened and he leaned into the hunters space. “You’ll have to find out for yourself,” he purred, feeling a little victorious when he heard the quiet, deep intake of air. Did he just get a reaction from Daryl with his sexual teasing? Lucus: 1 Daryl: 0

\----------

He drove his machete through the Croats head, watching it drop on the other side of the fence. Patrolling was basically walking along the outer fence, killing the dead on the way when they looked like they were piling together in a few places. The fence could only handle so much, and the massive tires and reinforcements weren’t spectacular. You always had to keep an eye out and you still had to be on guard.

“Think I may need a spare knife before long, I wanna keep the machetes and my hunting knife for as long as possible and this is just wearing them out,” he gestured to the bodies lining the outter fence where he killed them.

“Got a sword in my pants if you want that,” he heard Daryl say with an amused tone and Lucus nearly burst into laughter. It looked like the hunter was shooting back gay jokes, not only that, it was an innuendo, which was even better.

“Tempting, I’d be happy to hold it sometime,” he chuckled after failing to hold an alluring smirk. He was actually thinking that if they kept up the joking that it would actually lead somewhere, like to a private bed where they could mess around. He wouldn’t be surprised if Daryl was sexually frustrated too. There were so many nice looking women here, but he couldn’t just ask one to have sex with him. No one had condoms, and men didn’t exactly need them unless they had a disease. So gay sex was really the only thing Lucus could think of, plus he was gay, so it really wouldn’t make a difference. But Daryl... he didn’t know if he liked guys. He didn’t seem like a homophobe because he was talking and messing around with him, even making his own jokes and funny little comments.

“Wanna clean it too?” and that was an innuendo for a blowjob, making Lucus laugh a little as he shoved his blade through another Croats head.

“A bit of spit and polish? Definitely,” this conversation was basically going along the lines of...

Daryl: I have a dick in my pants.

Lucus: I’ll give you a handjob.

Daryl: Wanna give me a blowy?

Lucus: I’ll give you the best messy blowjob ever.

Yeah... just like that. They may as well just find someplace to bang.

“Guys,” they both turned to see Glenn jogging towards them, only stopping once he was close. “Rick said, whoever’s up for more scavenging get ready, he’s letting you go if you want, too,” he gestured to Lucus. He wasn’t really that surprised. He could use a good pair of hands and he was a scavenger, and a pretty damn good one. He’d spent most of his time in the apocalypse scavenging.

“Awesome,” he smirked casually.

\----------

Daryl, Michonne, Tyreese and Sasha. That’s who he was currently scavenging with and getting really guarded and judging looks from. He didn’t blame them at all, but it would’ve been nice if they would just cool it with the nasty expressions. Michonne, the dark, badass samurai, wasn’t that bad, she’d looked at him suspiciously and watch him, keeping an eye on him, but she was a little more relaxed and wasn’t trying to kill him with a glare. The other two... they wouldn’t take their eyes off him unless he went into a house with Daryl or on his own. The only one that really came near him was the hunter, and sometimes even Michonne, but she’d still stay a little ways away.

He would’ve felt better if Carol had come along, but there weren’t enough seats. He could make jokes with her and Daryl. With the three he was with now, nothing. He didn’t actually speak that much, only a few comments and opinions and maybe an innuendo or two, and even the hunter seemed to notice how uneasy he was. He stuck closer to him, like he thought maybe his presence would relax him a little. He wasn’t gonna lie, it worked to a point, that point being Sasha making a comment about outsiders being untrustworthy or suspicious. Weren’t they outsiders before? He vaguely remembered Carl telling him about these guys, that they just showed up after the group finally settled in. Freakin’ hypocritical of them.

“Hows your arm?” he suddenly snapped from his inner-ranting and turned to look at the hunter, seeing an unreadable expression.

“Oh, yeah... It-it’s fine. The old man, Hershel, he said to leave it alone and it should be fine by later today,” he hid his little smile. It felt like Daryl was making sure he was okay, it was like he cared for him and wanted to know it he was still hurting. He couldn’t really imagine this guy as the closed off, dark, anti-social man the doc described him to be. Yeah, he barely talked to anyone else for as long as he talked to him, or Carol, or Rick, but it was hard to picture him like that. “Thanks by the way, for askin’ him to check out my arm,”

Daryl quickly cleared his throat, like he wasn’t happy about something or something was a little wrong.

“What?” he asked.

“I... I told him that it was Carol who asked,” so... he told the old man that it was Carol who asked him to check his arm out?

“So, it wasn’t you?” he crossed his arms over his chest.

“No... it was me,”

“Okay, back up, confused,” he stopped walking, Daryl stopping a few feet away and turned to face him. “You told Hershel that it was Carol that wanted him to check out my arm, when in fact, it was you and not her,” he watched him, finally understanding when the hunter just nodded at him and glanced away. "What, you didn’t want me to thank you or something? Or didn’t want the corny ‘ _Aww you care about me_ ’ jokes that are going through my head?” he smirked and almost beamed when he heard the scoff and saw the corner of his lip curve up.

“Could do without those kinds of jokes,” he smirked back. “I got a reputation,”

“Nu-uh, you’re not getting outta it,” he chuckled, patting Daryl’s shoulder on the way passed. “They’re coming your way,” he could feel a little skip return to his step. He was feeling a little more open, like his usual self. It was like the hunter distracted him to get him out of his shell again. “But...” he paused, in his step too, and turned around, eyeing the man with a smirk. “I won’t do it in front of your friends. Don’t wanna sully your rep,” he turned back around and started walking towards the next house, Daryl on his heels.

\----------

Pissing down, that was the sudden whether report from Lucus Cooper, over and out... seriously, it happened so fast and everyone was instantly soaked. Obviously one of the others in the group, the big guy, had to ask ‘ _could it get any worse?_ ’ yeah... yeah, it can. Because not long after those ‘jinxing’ words, a small herd of Croats showed up, forcing them to hide and wait it out. Sasha and Tyreese were across the street, hiding in what looked like a bungalow and he, Daryl and Michonne were in the same house, in different rooms since they had to get out of the drenched clothes.

The guys that lived there were, _conveniently_ , near the same size as them in clothing, only a size or two bigger than Lucus, so the shirt and pants would be baggy. They’d probably fit Daryl just fine. And speaking of fine... he’s unintentionally turned around to make a joke and had... seen him, like seriously saw him. His body was... He didn’t mean to objectify him for a few seconds, but he was really nice, his body, the beautiful amount of muscle, the sweet tan, the size difference between them. Lucus, he- he’d more than love to have that man hovering over him, playing with him, messing him up until he’d whimpering his god damn name...

He also noticed the scars too, but... they weren’t his business, and he was sure that they were old, and the hunter didn’t seem too worried about showing them, so he wasn’t going to say anything, wouldn’t have either.

He’d instantly turned back, trying to hold his thoughts and push them back. This definitely wasn’t the time, and definitely wasn’t the place. Though his dick thought it was. He could feel the heat gathering and spreading low and going south. He needed to stay calm. He encircled his arms around his bare chest, his hands rubbing up and down a little. Lucus had a decent body, a good amount of muscle, abs, he had a strong swimsuit figure, like the hot guys you’d see at the beach or at a pool or in an underwear mag.

“You were sayin’?” he snapped from his thoughts and looked over his shoulder, not actually looking at Daryl, who was halfway facing him.

“What?” he asked and instantly hated how his voice cracked a little, realizing he’d been in the middle of a joke when he just suddenly shut up when he saw his body.

“You aright?” he must’s caught the hesitation and crack in his words. Lucus bit his bottom lip and silently took a deep breath.

“Yeah, I’m fine, just spaced out,” he huffed a chuckle and looked at him, one of his casual smirks in place. He almost wavered when he saw that Daryl was looking at him, his body more than side-on to him. He could clearly see his chest and that warmth grew again. Couldn’t he put a damn shirt on?! How indecent, says the one that’s getting a hard-on from just the thought of the guy.

“That right?” he obviously didn’t believe him, and crossing his arms with raised eyebrows proved it even more. He clearly knew that was a lie and he was bullshitting him. “How’s ‘bout you say what’s really goin’ through that head a ‘yours,” it wasn’t a request and it... sounded like they weren’t on the same page, like he was irritated with something and Lucus had no idea what. He was thinking that he was insanely gorgeous and would like to get boned by him, but Daryl seemed to be on about something else entirely.

“What’d you think’s going through my head?” he asked tentatively, tilting his head a little and narrowing his eyes a teeny tiny bit. This was odd.

“What I think?” his voice came out a lot rougher and a little deeper. It was like he was shelling up again, gradually pushing his walls back up and it made Lucus frown. He was getting a feeling of miscommunication and misunderstanding. They were focusing on two different things. “I think you shut your mouth ‘cause you looked at me,” he almost whispered, like he was hurt, not like ‘sad’ hurt, but ‘angry’ hurt. Like he didn’t like the way he reacted to something.

“... I-... I did,” that wasn’t a lie and Daryl seemed to see that, because he took one of those angry breaths, the ones that move the entire upper half of the chest and shoulders. That also seemed to end the conversation because he turned and grabbed his shirt, moving to leave the room, and Lucus instantly understood at that moment when his back was turned. Yeah, he saw the scars, but that was during his little hormonal blast, now he actually saw them and...

“Daryl!” he reached out and walked towards him, grabbing him before he opened the door and that was his sudden mistake. He was quickly spun around and his bare back hit the wall, the man’s forearm up against his throat, holding him there.

“Don’t!” he hissed, loud enough that it scared him, but quiet enough that Michonne and the Croats wouldn’t hear. “Don’t... touch me!”

“It-it’s not what you-,” he reached both hands up and grabbed the hunters’ arm, the one holding him to the wall. “I couldn’t care less about your damn scars aright?!” he grunted out, starting to feel like headed. That seemed to get his attention, like it confused him and he had to pause for a few minutes. Lucus felt the pressure against his neck falter and he breathed roughly when the arm was pulled away. “They-,” he cleared his throat when his voice croaked. “They don’t bother me, and they’re none of my business... I looked away and shut up ‘cause-,” he stopped himself and ran his hand over his mouth, feeling horrible now that he was on the spot. He crossed his arms and sniffed in. “I...” he really didn’t want any of this to come between the two. He liked Daryl, they were friends and they made an awesome pair.

“If it ain’t the scars, then... what?” he sounded vulnerable and he hated himself that he made him like that.

“I-...” he couldn’t find the words... that was a lie, he knew what to say, but they weren’t coming out. “Can I show you?” he suddenly rushed on, a spur of the moment thought that his mouth came out with before he even accepted them as something good to say... thanks mouth...

Daryl shrugged, Lucus taking that as a yes, and he was a little happy he was still pretty hard from before. He swallowed hard and stepped forward, into the other man’s space. He slowly ran his hand up his bare arm, and back down, gently grabbing his hand and guiding it towards his bulge. His jeans were still wet, but he’d be out of them soon, either by his own hands or Daryls’. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I'm sorry for the wait :/


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And~~~~~ I'm back. Hey :) hope you enjoy this chapter, again, it's short, but I have a few other stories to write too. I think my attention span on chapter length is lacking. I need a slap... someone slap me!!

Lucus had to take a deep breath when he finally held the hunters’ hand against his crotch, the man cupping him and Daryl splayed his fingers, seeming to get a better angle or feel for what was in his pants. He looked up at him, their eyes locking and he swallowed the dry lump growing in his throat. He gave a light scoff.

“Does it really feel like I’m repulsed by you?” he asked rhetorically, dropping his hand away from the back of the hunters’, but his stayed there, cupping him, almost fondling, what with the way he kept shifting his hand, like he wanted to feel more. Daryl didn’t say anything, he just touched him, his eyes still on him like he was gauging his reaction and response to what he was doing.

He nearly broke the eye lock when he vaguely noticed the man’s other hand reach up to his trousers, both of them starting to undo his belt, button and zipper. It was either he wanted a better look, or he wanted to play. And from the still tense atmosphere, it was probably the former. He probably wanted to see for himself if he was lying or not, even when he felt his arousal through his wet jeans, though you couldn’t really tell anything with how soaked they were. The fabric was horrible on his skin, and they were feeling heavy.

Lucus had to take a quick breath through his slightly open mouth when his erection met less damp air and a hot hand, his shaft being held by Daryl in a loose but heated grip. The hunter reluctantly broke the eye-lock to look down between them, Lucus seeing his unreadable expression change a little to something else he couldn’t read.

“Pants off, pretty boy,” he practically ordered, looking back up at him with a very authoritive tone.

“I’m happy to know you think I’m pretty,” he shot back with a light smirk, starting to shove his trousers down with so much trouble, seriously, wet pants wasn’t a good thing when it came to having a good time.

Though once they were off, along with his boots he was pressed up against the wall, the hunter slowly taking the rest of his own clothes off as he attacked his mouth and stroked the hell out of him. His hand felt like it was getting hotter and hotter and he couldn’t help, but moan into the mans mouth, his hands reaching up to grab at his shoulder and hair.

“You’re such a fuckin’ tease, you lil’ shit,” he muttered grittily against his lips, moving to bite at his jawline and neck.

“You really have a way with words,” he shot back with some sarcasm, chuckling a little while he tangled his fingers in Daryl’s hair. He groaned when the hunter sucked and bit down hard on the crook of his neck, leaving a dark, heavy mark on him. He had a feeling that the man was possessive, which only made this even hotter. “Markin’ me as yours? Are you a kinky type? Like the guys that play Master/Slave role-play?”

“You really talkin’ at a time like this?” he asked rhetorically, his voice still like gravel. He almost yelped when he was picked up and held to the wall, Daryl’s hand holding him by his lower half and Lucus had to wrap his legs around his waist so he felt more stable.

“Well, you know me,” he purred, leaning his head slightly lower to nip at the hunters’ ear.

“I’m ‘bout to know you a whole lot more, like if you’re a screamer or a pillow biter,” he face started to heat up at that and he pulled back, giving the man a confident smirk before leaning in to plant one on him.

\----------

He tried to stay quiet, he really did, but damn! It felt too good! Too amazing! Daryl slipped in and out and hit his spot every time. He’d tried biting the pillow on the bed, even tried biting his own forearms, but he kept making groans and moaning in response to how freaking good the hunter was. He wasn’t over-exaggerating about the feelings he was getting. His body was on fire, his prostate was a constant target that was hit on each thrust and somehow, Daryl knew where a few of his spots were, where he liked to be touched and where he liked to he rubbed.

“ _Hah god,_ ” he whimpered against his arm, his voice a few pitches higher than before. He was close, oh so close and he was so ready to burst, but he wanted to wait, he really wanted to. He was waiting for Daryl. There was no way he was jizzing prematurely, even with that damn amazing hand still jerking him. No way.

He was pushing back against him, with every thrust he’d jut back and meet him, feeling the hunter go deep again, his tip hitting his prostate and then rubbing up against it as it slipped deeper. He really had no idea on how long he’d last, but he could guess that it wasn’t long. He was actually thinking that he _would_ burst way before the man.

“C’mon, hurry up and blow a’ready,” Daryl grunted in his ear, his voice sounding strained and cracky. Lucus panted hard and arched his back against the hunter, clenching down on him as he thrusted in particularly rough and forceful. That pushed him and he came in a few long spurts on the bed. He felt Daryl pull out a bit too fast, making him gasp and then he felt something cold spray over the backs of his thighs.

Lucus was too busy panting to even complain about what was running down the back of his legs, too tired to even speak or move. He was seriously in bliss and he didn’t feel as antsy as before. So it proved his theory that he’d been sexually frustrated.

“Hey...” he heard Daryl whisper, his hand moving to rest on his ass. He relaxed completely at the feel of the warm palm on him again.

“Mmm,” he groaned, trying to lift his head from his forearm. He attempted to push himself up, but only succeeded in dropping on his side and spreading out over the bed a little. He grimaced and frowned at the feel of the jizz smearing more on his legs. “That’s gross,” he mumbled, bending his legs so he wouldn’t feel it as much.

“Can blame yourself for that,” Daryl sounded like he chuckled and it made him smile a little, though he was still completely grossed out by the fact he had jizz all over him and was a few inches away from his own cum on the bed.

“Coulda blown your load inside me, woulda made less of a mess _on_ me,” he replied calmly and contently as he sluggishly turned onto his back and leaned up onto his elbows, seeing Daryl wiping himself down of sweat with a spare shirt that was lying around the room. He’d have to do that in a second, but jizz was added to the sweat part. He stopped and looked up at the hunter, seeing the way he was practically gazing at him while he cleaned himself up. The expression was odd, like a mix of a few things. He could definitely see a type of _want_ there, followed by curiosity, and something he couldn’t really pin.

“What?” Lucus eventually asked lightly, still a little physically tired from the awesome sex.

“You’re glowin’,” that was a total mushy line from after a romantic sex scene. Daryl just basically said he was beautiful after sex.

“Two compliments in the span of twenty minutes? Thank you, I feel honoured... and _very_ pleasured,” he teased a little and pushed himself to sit up, feeling his lower spine protest and ache. His hole twitched painfully when he was up right and burned when he turned and shifted across the bed until he was sitting on the edge. Sex was great, definitely great and he was happy that Daryl actually got into it too, but the after effect was a bitch to get used to. His ass was hurting and burning and- he’d need after-care cream if they were going to do more of this.

“Here,” his arm snapped up to catch a shirt, another spare one and he stood up awkwardly, pushing himself on mildly shaky legs before he started wiping himself down, starting with the icky jizz on his legs and thighs.

\----------

They were dry and dressed again, Lucus looking particularly hot-sexy in a dark grey t-shirt and blue jeans, the bottoms of them tucked into his dr-martins. His hair was a little flatter, but he looked dead gorgeous, especially when he put his leather jacket back on. Yeah, he was a little vain, but when you knew you were really good looking... well, you were really good looking... He used it to his advantage.

“What’d you think?” Lucus asked after turning with a crooked smirk to the hunter, who was standing by the door, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. He was watching the younger man like a hawk, probably having watched him change after he jumped into some clothes too.

“Want an honest answer?” he eyed him, and again, he couldn’t tell what he was thinking, he couldn’t read him. He just nodded with both brows rising. “Tempted to rip those clothes back off,”

“Whoa, slow down there, Rambo. My ass can only take so much,” he laughed, ignoring the slight heat reaching his face when he thought about it. He really didn’t think that Daryl would be this open about this all of a sudden. He thought that maybe he would revert a little and just make a few jokes every now and again. Though, maybe it was because they were alone? He said he had a rep to uphold so maybe this was a private thing, he would be happy with that. No one needed to know they... they-uh... what were they doing? Was this a friends-with-benefits situation? Were they a sex couple? He didn’t really want to ask, a little too nervous to want to know.

“And so can my ears,” Lucus almost jumped with a girl-ish yelp when the door was swiftly opened... almost. He didn’t- _Oh god, she heard them_?! “The herd passed, there are just a few lagers now,” lagers, like the ones at the back that are way too slow and end up lingering at the end of the herd.

“Good to know,” he muttered. “We can take them on, right? Or are we gonna wait for them to pass too,” he asked curiously, glancing between them for an answer. He was sure they could all take them on, pretty easily. They were very capable, him included. Waiting was actually the risk. What if more followed? Like a herd following a herd? He’d seen it once and he’d been stuck in the same house for two to three days. Their chance was to go now, in his opinion.

“I say we bail,” Daryl agreed, pushing himself from the wall and leaning down to grab his bow. Lucus did the same, but grabbed his pistol and machetes and strapped them to his legs, the gun being pocketed in his belt at his back. Michonne already had her sword held to her back, like that was her plan from when they got stuck inside.

“What do we do?” the woman asked. They suddenly turned to him, both looking at him expectantly as if he would have the idea.

“What?” he questioned back dumbly, glancing between them. Why would they think he had the idea? Yeah, he got them through the last window the last time they were stuck... did they tell her about that? Did Carl and Daryl and the other three talk about his deeds back there?

“The front door’s blocked by walkers, and you normally have a way out if that option’s out of the question,” she pointed out simply. Yeah, he usually did. It was a second escape for him, like before when he had to get the group out of that house in the old town they’d been in. But these windows were sort of boarded up, a crappy job if he was honest. They could probably pry them off, but it would make some noise and that would draw Croats. Did they have an upstairs? He wasn’t sure if he saw a third floor to this house when they’d been running towards it...

“Does this house have an attic?” he asked with a knitted brow of concentration. “There’d be a window in the attic that we could probably get through,” it was risky and very dangerous, the rain made it that bit worse, because now everything would be insanely slippery and he wasn’t sure of the height if they fell. It would either kill them, or they’d be pretty hurt and then the Croats would kill them. Falling was a bad risk.

“I’ll go check,” Michonne muttered before turning around and leaving the room, going to check the ceilings of the building for a latch of some kind.

“You okay?” he glanced over to Daryl, seeing the serious expression with minor concern. Lucus probably had everything he thought written on his face. That this was an incredibly bad idea.

“I’m fine, just... –if we find the attic, becareful when climbing through the window,” it was a nasty drop. He’d had fears of falling through one, he nearly did on a few occasions. But all of those times... it hadn’t been raining.

\----------

Fortunately, there was an attic and it lightened their moods for a while, but Lucus’ dimmed immediately after seeing a big enough window to get through, with a very narrow ledge to land on. He didn’t like this idea as soon as he thought it and he was starting to feel light headed. He had a few fears and this one came with the Croats, when everything happened. The first time he did this was around the start of the Apocalypse, and he’d been hurt pretty bad, a nearly broken leg. He was lucky there were barely any dead walking around at the time.

“Alright, c’mon-,”

“Wait!” he called out, cutting Michonne off as she was about to go through the window. She stopped, Daryl did too and Lucus just stood there, looking between them for a second. “Let me go first,” he requested firmly with a frown on his face. These were good people and he actually wanted them safe. When was the last time he put others before himself?

“Why?” she asked him, a little suspicious all of a sudden.

“Because I’ve done this before,” _and nearly got myself killed._

That seemed to make her pause, her eyes looking him over for a few seconds before she stepped back with a light, subtle nod. He smirked, though it didn’t reach his eyes and then turned to Daryl, winking once before walking over to the window and peeking his head out, looking down. He really didn’t like the height on this drop. It would definitely hurt, maybe leaving him with a few broken bones on landing. He didn’t want the others to risk this, he really didn’t. Maybe he could get down and lure the Croats away. That would be better. He didn’t want them dead.

“Stay here until I call a’right?” he looked over his shoulder to them, noting the rigid and stiff nods. That was all he needed. His gaze lingered on the hunter before he turned back around and lifted a leg over and through the window, his hands having a white-knuckle grip on the sill as he straddled it and then slipped his other leg over. He lowered himself, almost dangling before the tips of his boots touched the slippery surface of the lower-level roof. His breath hitched slightly when he felt the lack of grip he had. There was no doubt that he would end up with a few cuts and bruises from this.

“ _Okay..._ ” he whispered to himself, trying to calm himself as he shifted a little, lowering himself a tiny bit more. The balls of his feet and boots were now on the lower plat-formed roof and the grip still wasn’t there. He had nothing to go on now. If he let go, he would fall. He couldn’t pull himself back up, he had no strength for that. He didn’t want to call on Daryl and Michonne. He was trying to get them out and this would count as a fail and they’d be stuck. If a second herd was coming then their chances were screwed...

So he let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy? What'd you think?


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, this story is done. There will be a sequel and I'm sorry if this story seemed rushed, specifically this chapter. I noticed that it was a bit fast paced, but I really hope you like it. It is a SEQUEL.

_Lucus knew there was a risk with these windows, they were dangerously high and most never had a ledge to get out onto when there was no other way out of the house. He remembered the last time he did it, he hit his head, hard. He felt pain and he was aching and it was a bitch to get up. He was lucky it was in a safe zone and not the red zones. It still hurt and it wasn’t that high._

_This house was different. It was higher, much higher._

_Remember when he used to talk about his luck running out at some point? ...well-_

Lucus let out a spine chilling scream when he landed, a thin metal rebar piercing his skin and going right through his calf. He couldn’t process, he couldn’t register anything but the cold sting and burning and pain and darkness fuzzing the outside of his blurry sight. It hurt, it fucking hurt and he was so close to crying out for someone, anyone.

“ _Luc’s,_ ” he heard Daryl yell out for him. Or he was sure it was Daryl, he was the only other guy with him aside from that Tyreese guy, but he didn’t have that accent that cut out a letter or two that made his name sound like _Luc’s_.

He snapped out of his thoughts when he heard the nightmare inducing sounds of the dead, the grunts and groans and snapping teeth and throat growls. The song of the dead. He achingly turned his head to the side, seeing a couple heading his way, all slow and unrhythmical as the limped and crawled. He actually let out a whimper and tried to sit up, feeling his movements gently tugging at the rebar and where his leg was stuck. He couldn’t move it without pain and he winced and whined. There was a little bit of metal sticking up and out of him, just an inch or so and he could easily pull his leg from it, but he would be in insane pain and he didn’t know if he could stay quiet. It would get more attention and-....

-and he could draw the Croats... He could draw them away. Once he pulled his leg off of the thing, he could limp away. He’d be faster and he draw them, making it easier on the group to get out alive. It could work, it could, he just needed to-

Lucus practically jumped when a Croat close to him was shot, an arrow sticking out of its head when it fell to the ground. He stared for a few shocked seconds and then looked up, seeing Daryl aiming at more of them. He looked frantic as he shot and shot and shot, there was gun fire too, and when he looked to where it came from, Sasha was at one window of the house across the street and Tyreese was in the one next to it. They were helping.

They were trying to help him... This group, was by far the best one he’d been with, even if it was only a few days, not even that really.

He snapped his head back to Daryl, seeing the look on his face when he turned to him. He was scared, like actually scared... so was Lucus. He was terrified. They were all giving him a chance to get his leg from the rebar and he was going to damn well take it. No time to think about fear!

He pushed himself to sit up, wincing when it deepened the rebar poll. He reached out and grabbed the tip of the metal, his other hand grabbing the underside of his calf, the blooded poll going between two fingers. He only touched the area and he whimpered. It fucking hurt! He tried pushing it up a little, thinking he could get it up about an inch before taking a quick breather. The tip that was sticking out was actually shrinking, starting to get pulled through as he lifted and lifted.

Screw that damn inch talk he was just talking about. He needed it out! And fast! He was going slow, he needed a faster way to get it out!

Lucus snapped his eyes to his side, seeing a Croat crawling, getting closer and closer. It hadn’t been hit yet and it had no legs and damn- it was ugly. He locked his eyes back on the rebar sticking out, suddenly having an idea- it was going to hurt like a motherfucker, but if it meant he got out...

“ _Goddammit,_ ” he breathed and sat up fully, letting go of his leg and the bar. He yelped as his leg went back down on it, but screamed his fucking lungs out when he launched his body back against the ground, his legs swinging up like he was about to jump and land on his feet, you know, like those old martial art moves or whatever.

Anyway, he screamed, pain erupting all throughout his body from that one area in his leg. His entire limb went cold and stung until numbness took it. He had nerves on his way of pulling out, caught them on the metal. He was actually crying now, tears rolling from his eyes, but he wasn’t sobbing. He held it back. He was wincing, whining, but he wasn’t going to freaking cry.

“Luc’s!” Daryl called again and he couldn’t look. He rolled onto his side for a second, pulling his leg up to cradle the wound. He needed to cover it, bandage it, but not here, definitely not here. He needed to draw these things away too, but the pain was making him doubt everything.

But he still tried...

Lucus rolled over the same way again, but onto his fours, minding his leg as he tried to push himself up to stand. He looked to his side while doing this, using the deck beside him as stability as he got up. He painfully and awkwardly limped to the side when a Croat got close to him, too close. _Time to be a hero..._

“Hey! Over here!” he yelled, fear taken over by some anger and pain. “You ugly basterds! This way!”

“Luc’s! The hell are you doi-,”

“Get outta there when it’s clear!” he cut Daryl off, Michonne now coming to the window and staring down at him in utter shock. He started taking steps back, his free hand reaching down to get his pistol out. There was no way he could use a machete and get close enough with getting killed because of his leg. His gun was his only option right now.

“No dammit! Don’t you dare!” the hunter yelled at him, but he ignored. They were wasting ammo right now and he wanted them to be safe, that meant getting the hell outta dodge with the dead on his trail. They’d be safe that way, Daryl would he safe that way.

“C’mon!” he yelled, completely focused on taking these things with him, leading them away. He was awkwardly and painfully stepping back, further and further away. He was glancing behind him to make sure nothing was there and when he was finally about a yard away, he looked over at the house, Daryl staring, almost livid looking through the window. He was pissed with him. Great...

Lucus gave him a salute and a trademark smile before awkwardly turning away and limping quickly away, still yelling for the dead to follow as he got further and further away from Daryl and the group. He was heading in the opposite direction to the prison, and he knew that, though it was unintentional. It’s not like he wanted to leave them, it was just the way he turned and the way they followed him.

He hated this idea now that he thought about it...

\----------

**God knows how many days later!!!! (go with it, there’s story to it, and reason)**

\----------

He was alone, tired, hurt, weak... He felt like he’d lost everything in that run. He still had his weapons, his life, but he just felt too weak and lifeless. He hadn’t had food in a long time, let alone a drink...

Lucus was walking-... more like limping badly, down the side of the road, sticking close to the tree-line just in case. He’d easily be able to hide behind them and manoeuvre through them if he were chased. He was still having problems walking, even after he fixed up his own leg. He was no doctor, but he did an okay job, hell Hershel may be impressed if he ever saw him again.

He’d lost his way miles back. He had no idea where he was or what town or road he went through. He slept at night, travelled by day and he was turned around so many times after being chased by the dead at every turn. He really hated his decision all those weeks ago, if he hadn’t done it, he’d probably be with the Prison group by now, having his fun with Daryl, or letting him have his way with him, and his leg would be in better shape with the old man being there. He wouldn’t be limping so bad if he just stayed... he wouldn’t be feeling so lonely either.

\----------

Lucus opened the door to the shed, quickly locking it with the big wooden beam falling into metal hooks on both doors. He eyed it for a few seconds and stepped back, looking over his shoulder a few times before actually turning around and walking over to sit next to a standing beam of wood, his back leaned against it. It was getting darker out and he needed to sleep.

He’d checked the place out before going off to scavenge lightly, only bringing back what he absolutely needed, and he did bring back some much needed water and food. But... what he found odd... was where and how he found them. It was seriously suspicious and freaky and it worried him.

Lucus had been walking down a road that led into a town, but he never actually went in. He found them just sitting there in the middle of the road, in bags and fresh looking. There was a four-pack of bottled water, all clear and untouched and the food was bagged, also untouched, fruit, fruit cans, brunch bars and little candy bags. The way there were placed was like it was waiting for him, like they were put there for someone. And considering he’d never seen anyone for miles and days now, he assumed they were for him. But that meant he was being watched and followed.

“Whoever you are, thank you,” _but if this is poisoned and I’m about to die, I’m hauntin’ your ass._ He thought lamely as he took a bite from an apple, the juice spreading over his lips and down his chin and onto his shirt. He really didn’t care though, because it was almost heavenly to finally eat something. He was eyeing the water too, giving it his seductive smirk like he was saying ‘ _you’re next, beautiful_ ’. He was going to down one entire bottle after the apple was eaten. Maybe two.

If any of this wasn’t poisoned and he wasn’t going to die, he was going to thank the hell outta whoever left all this. He forgot how good food tasted, apples were going to be cherished by him like they were from the heavens. He wasn’t religious or anything, but it sounded good.

His head snapped up to the doors when he heard grunting and groaning, a few Croats having decided to walk passed his little hide away. He stopped chewing and biting, trying to keep quiet until they left. Lucus was in a decent place, locked and barred, but it wouldn’t last. He needed proper shelter. He’d be okay for tonight, but that was it. One night and he needed to get the hell outta dodge.

\----------

The next morning actually seemed to work out great for him. There were no noises of the dead outside, no scraping on the wooden doors. He still had food and drink and he was still alive. So, he could just get outta there, maybe find a good place to sit down and have a tiny bit of breakfast. He had to spread his rations, to a point that he wouldn’t go hungry, but he wasn’t eating as much. He need to be careful with what he had and how he ate and stuff, otherwise he’ll end up eating everything and ending up like before, where he went hungry for a while.

Lucus sat up from the hay, stretching a little before awkwardly pushing himself to stand and wiping himself down from the little wigs and light brown grass. He was practically covered and could be mistaken for a walking hay bale.

Once that was done, he reached down, grabbing the bag of food and water bottles. His leg was hurting, but after all this time, he’d learnt to ignore it. It didn’t seem to get much better, though it was healing irritatingly slowly, but it wasn’t getting worse, so he decided to leave until he actually found something that could help him, like a med kit or first aid kit, anything really.

He glanced around, hoping he hadn’t forgotten anything. His gun was at his back, machete on both thighs and he was ready to go. It hadn’t taken him long to realize that he left his rifle at the prison. It was maybe a day or two after he ran off from Daryl and his group. He hoped the hunter had it and was taking care of his old mans gun. He loved that thing.

Lucus limped his way to the doors, making sure he was quiet and very careful when he lifted the wood and rested it against the wall a few feet away. He was even more careful when peeking through the gap between the doors, opening just a little to get a better look, and he was so happy and relieved when he saw nothing. No dead, no bodies, no guns pointed at him. Everything was... well, everything was going great for once.

... How long was that going to last? His luck was already starting to bite him on the ass. The freaking rebar and the limping was a bitch to get over, even if he’d learnt to ignore it.

He stepped further out, keeping his eyes sharp and focused for anything. Lucus knew that anything could change in a matter of seconds. Even his state of life. He could easily be shot if a sniper was around, or any lunatic with a gun... Haha, all he could really imagine now was a crazy old man running around waving a gun in the air, screaming about something completely irrelevant to everything.

Lucus glanced over his shoulder a few times as he awkwardly walked around the building to the back, turning to walk on a narrow path that headed to a river-esc area. It was quiet, out of the way and he wouldn’t be seen by Croats because of the trees circling it. He saw it on the way in and it looked like a nice place to chow down on another apple or one of the brunch bars. There were a few raisin ones, which he didn’t like, but he wasn’t picky in his current situation. That being starved half to death and only now finding something to nom on.

He quickly walked down the path, or as quickly as he could with a bad limp anyway. He took a long gander behind him, making sure the coast was clear before ducking into the circler trees and moving to sit on a rock. He eyed the bag for a few seconds before reaching in and grabbing one of the raisin bars, easily ripping the packaging down the centre from the top and grabbing it from the rapping. He took a good bite of it and started chewing. He was actually thankful for the bars, and everything else of course, but the bars and fruit were a good source of energy, and that was what he really needed at the moment, something keep him going, mentally and physically. His hope wasn’t dying or anything. He just found it really hard to concentrate and focus most of the time. He was always overly tired now. The bars and fruit and- everything in this bag was good for him, would give him energy and bring up his chances of staying alive. He would live... maybe...

“Excuse m-,” Lucus actually jumped and fell when the voice came out of nowhere, landing on his ass on the other end of the rock. His gun was instantly in hand though, a gun without bullets that is. He was aiming it at two guys, both had their hands up, looking a little worried. How the hell did they sneak up on him?!

Lucus eyed them for a few seconds, glancing between them before trying and almost failing to stand up. He winced and glanced down at his still bad leg and then back up to the two, seeing the still worried looks.

“My-uh... my name’s Aaron, this is Eric,” the taller one introduced themselves. He just kept looking between them and gave a nod. They looked unarmed, harmless in a way. They probably had weapons on them, but it didn’t look like they were going to use them on him. It was like they wanted to talk... which he was very okay with.

“I’m Lucus,” he said quietly, slowly lowering his empty gun and reaching it behind him and putting it in his belt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you like this story. There will be a sequel, the cliffhanger ending will lead into a recent thing in Walking Dead. Not so recent, but still recent. 
> 
> Anyone remember Alexandria?? Of course you do.... well, Lucus goes there and it's a while before Rick's group shows up, but it'll show the first few chapters of Lucus getting used to the town and then Rick and everyone else will show up. I hope you like the idea and the damn good cliffhanger I left. Please don't hurt me. And thank you for going this far with me. A few comments actually got me back into writing this, so I thank them whole hardheartedly!!
> 
> Oh!- and who'd you think Negan beat the shit out of in the last episode!?  
> And oh my god! I just thought of something awesome! What if Negan was Lucus' biological father!? Let me know what you think of that idea!!!


End file.
